Lacrymae Rerum
by Hoshi-tachi
Summary: It's a fact of life: sometimes, bad things happen to good people. And sometimes, they get another chance... But why does the second time around have to be so much harder? Shonenai, temp. char. death.
1. Lullaby And Good Night

**Title:** Lacrymae Rerum  
**Author:** hoshi-tachi  
**Category: **Anime Crossovers (FAKE and a slightly AU Gundam Wing)  
**Rating: **PG-13 just to be safe, but I might change it to R if we get that far. (T, for now)  
**Pairings: **Dee**x**Ryo, of course. Plus 2**x**5 and 3**x**4.  
**Summary:** It's a fact of life: sometimes, bad things happen to good people. But sometimes, they get another chance... Even if it's one they'd rather not have chosen.  
**Warnings: **Temporary character death, violence, profanity, sexual references, and lots and lots of YAOI. That means BOYS SLEEPING WITH OTHER BOYS. You. Have. Been. Warned. Flames regarding that issue will be dissected and ridiculed.  
**Distribution:** Fanfiction_dot_net, and my personal website... if I ever actually pay attention to that thing again.  
**Disclaimer:** -scowls- I don't own Gundam Wing or FAKE. -glares at the audience- Rub it in, why don't ya?

* * *

**Lacrymae Rerum  
**_**The Tears of Everything  
...  
(Shit Happens)**_

* * *

"DEE!" 

Growling in irritation, the green-eyed cop dodged the incoming projectile, and winced in unwilling sympathy as JJ ran headfirst into the precinct wall.

"Dammit, Laytner! Couldn't you at least have made sure there was something soft behind you before you moved!" Drake demanded, kneeling next to his unconscious partner.

"Hey, _he's_ the one who jumped me, pal. I didn't exactly have a lot of choice in the matter," Dee snapped, grabbing the briefcase he'd dropped during his evasion maneuvers. "Tell him to pick better ambush spots if he doesn't want to get hurt. Or better yet, tell him to _leave me the fuck alone!_" he finished hotly, and stalked off down the hallway.

Drake blinked after him, left in the figurative dust. "Geez. What the hell's _his_ problem?"

-

Dee scowled to himself as he strode through the station, running his free hand agitatedly through his dark hair. He knew he shouldn't have been so short with the guys, but... hell, he'd already been in a bad mood when that little creep JJ decided to jump him, _again_. And all that had managed to do was make it worse as it reminded him of why he was so down in the first place.

JJ'd been obsessed with Dee ever since their academy days, and took every opportunity to try and get into his pants. It had gotten to the point at which yells and _thuds_ were not only commonplace, but expected in the 27th Precinct. It wasn't so much that Dee minded someone wanting to have sex with him.

It was just that it was the wrong _person_.

The man sighed, unconsciously quickening his pace and ignoring the hails of the fellow cops he passed. He knew he wasn't really thinking clearly; if Ryo ever acted anything like JJ did, he wouldn't be... well, Ryo. At least, not the Ryo his partner had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with.

But, dammit! Why couldn't the bastard ever show what he felt?

Dee was pretty sure the half-Japanese was attracted to him, no matter how much he protested the issue. There had been a couple of times when he was sure the dude was about to say something incriminating, and only just caught himself. But _every single time_ he thought they were getting somewhere, someone interrupted them, or the phone rang, or Ryo'd go into his Ice Man routine when something caught his eye. Okay, so his ability to spot abnormalities had actually saved their lives a couple of times, but it was fucking annoying, not to mention completely beside the point!

Dee growled mentally, lost in thought. Of course, that isn't really a good thing to be doing while walking through a crowded corridor, so it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. The hotheaded cop was jarred out of his musing as something abruptly collided with his chest, sending him crashing to the floor with a shrill yelp. Snarling, he sat up, ready to tear a new asshole into whoever'd run into him.

Only to have all his anger drain away, like it usually did when faced with this particular person, when he looked into a pair of deep, midnight eyes.

"Dee?" Ryo murmured, sitting up with a wince. Eyes wide, his partner scrambled up to offer the honey-haired man a hand up.

"You all right, Ryo?" he asked, concerned.

The cop smiled, taking his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?"

Dee grinned ruefully, pulling him up. "You know me. Head harder than the Chief's heart. Didn't even feel it."

Ryo looked at him doubtfully, but decided not to press the issue. "So where were you going in such a hurry?"

Flushing a bit, Dee bent down and again picked up his dropped briefcase. "Um, well, I was maybe just a little annoyed at JJ, and maybe not really watching where I was going, and..."

Ryo winced. "Never mind. I get the picture." He sighed. "You really should be nicer to JJ, you know."

The dark-haired cop scowled at his partner. "Yeah, sure, _you_ can say that. He ain't always jumping _you_. If you had to endure the little twerp, you'd be congratulating me on my restraint."

Seemingly torn between disapproval and amusement, Ryo settled for shaking his head with another sigh. "Well, if I ever happen to get my own stalker, I'll sympathize with you. As it is... that's a no-go."

Dee snorted in disbelief. "What the hell do you call that creep Rose, then, if not a stalker? Overly affectionate?"

"Your boss, perhaps?"

The cop stiffened, turning around slowly. How the hell did he always _do_ that! "Rose. Timing as impeccable as ever, I see," he said, glaring at the hated face.

"Of course. How could it be otherwise?" Berkeley Rose smirked, before deliberately turning away from his rival to nod politely to the man beside him. "Detective Mclean. You're looking well."

Ryo nodded in return, eyes wider than normal with uneasiness. "Er, thank you, Commissioner."

Feeling just the teeniest bit pissed off, Dee broke in with a scowl. "Is there a purpose to this little chat, _Commissioner_?"

Surprisingly, the smug look on Rose's face fled. "As a matter of fact, there is. Illegal Substances is doing a particularly large bust tonight. So large, they've requested more officers."

"And that includes us?" Ryo asked, leaning back against the wall to let another officer pass by.

"With your records, yes." Dee saw a shadow pass through the man's eyes, and realized he wasn't in any way happy with ordering Ryo into the line of fire. He couldn't help but agree with the man on that, but at the same time knew that Rose had no such qualms about doing the same to him. "Detective Adams will be joining you as well."

Dee groaned. "Oh, joy... why don't you just put a noose around my neck for me to kill myself with while you're at it?" Then he brightened as he remembered something. "Of course, that's assuming he isn't still unconscious..."

Ryo sent him a look of alarm, while Rose lifted an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Hey, can I help it if JJ decided to pounce himself into a wall?"

Rose winced. "Be that as it may, Laytner, you can _not_ go around putting other officers in the hospital. This department is enough of a disgrace as it is. With a few exceptions, of course." He flicked his eyes over to Ryo during that last sentence, who, as usual, took no notice whatsoever.

Hell, even if he hated the fact, at least Dee wasn't alone in his sexual frustrations.

"Yeah, yeah, I know our arrest record sucks. Ya don't have to pound it into our heads," he growled. "When are we supposed to be ready for this thing, anyway?"

"The briefing is in about half an hour. Knowing you, I'd suggest you try to be early, Laytner." Stepping back, the commissioner nodded to them briskly. "I'll see you both later. Good luck, Ryo," he added, before turning and walking away.

-

It took Ryo physically dragging his partner for them to make the briefing on time, and even then it was a close thing. They'd only just settled down in the 27th Precinct's uncomfortable plastic chairs when one of Illegal Substances' plainclothes detectives walked the room. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, settle down," he ordered. "We've got a lot to cover and only a little time, so let's get on with it."

He walked to the projector at the head of the room. "Now, I'm sure some of you have noticed some of our compatriots from Homicide have joined us. Detectives Laytner, Mclean, and-" He stopped, blinking at the two of them. "Where's Adams?"

As though on cue, the door to the briefing room opened, and JJ stepped in, holding an icepack to his head. He flushed uncomfortably as every eye in the room stared at him. The short cop sidled inside, embarrassed, and settled into an empty chair, shooting Dee a pouting glance.

Dee just smirked, and then proceeded to ignore him in favor of the briefing.

"Alright," the detective said dryly. "Now that Detective Adams has seen fit to join us, shall we continue?" He turned on the projector and aimed it towards the room's whiteboard. The first transparency was of a man with a face like a bulldog, distinguished by acne scars and a hare lip. "This rather ugly fellow is Andrew Riggs. He's a cocaine dealer, not a truly big one, but his business has been growing, and we think he might also act as a middleman for someone further up the food chain."

He replaced the picture with another, one of New York's countless number of generic wharf-side warehouses. "And _this_ is his center of operations..."

The briefing was over what seemed like a long time later, though no more than half an hour could truly have passed. Ryo walked down to the locker room with a yawning Dee to change out of his suit and into something a bit more appropriate for busting a drug house.

"Are those things _designed _to be as boring as possible?" the green-eyed cop complained, hiding another yawn behind a hand.

His partner rolled dark eyes, spinning open the combination lock on his locker. "Oh, of course," he answered sarcastically. "The bosses know you're not getting enough sleep, so they make sure you have plenty of briefings to catch a few winks in."

Dee sent him a pouting glare. "Nobody loves me..." he muttered sulkily.

Ryo snorted, pulling off his suit jacket. "Damn right."

Dee pouted for a moment more, then snuck up behind the shorter man. "You sure 'bout that?" he murmured into his ear, wrapping his arms around Ryo's waist.

The cop bit back a curse as the half-Japanese tensed almost imperceptibly inside the circle of his arms. "Fairly sure. Hands to yourself, Detective," the man said teasingly, and Dee felt a pang of relief at hearing that note of humor in Ryo's voice.

He smiled, dropping a butterfly kiss onto the temptingly close neck. "_Fairly_, is it? That means there's still a chance..."

Ryo blinked, and instinctively turned in his arms. "I..." He started to speak, but paused as he seemed to see something startling in his partner's face, and his surprised, midnight eyes softened.

Dee stared down into his beloved's face for an endless moment, fighting the urge to lean forward just those few inches between their lips and kiss him senseless.

But he waited too long, struggling between desire and not wanting to upset Ryo, and the moment was lost as a loud bang announced that they were no longer alone in the room. Dee let his arms drop with a quiet sigh as Ryo automatically took a step away.

They finished changing in an awkward silence.

-

Later that night, though, silent was what the world was _not_.

In fact, Dee would almost have preferred that horribly uncomfortable quiet to the raucous din that assaulted his ears now. Yes. Even _that_ silence was _infinitely_ preferable to the sounds of a serious gunfight.

Especially when said guns were mostly aimed at _you_.

He ducked as a ricochet sparked overhead. Damn it, he knew he hadn't paid as much attention to the briefing as he maybe should have, but there sure as hell hadn't been any mention of submachine guns!

Speaking of which... Dee cocked his head to the side as the gun spitting bullets at him and Ryo suddenly stopped. Realizing the gunner must be reloading, the cop took a quick look over the packing crates they'd taken cover behind. A movement drew his attention to where a denim-clad arm hung just the tiniest bit out in the open from behind the bad guy's own crate, and he let loose with a couple of rounds from his police-issue revolver, to be rewarded with a cry of pain and the arm's hasty withdrawal.

"This is seriously fucked up," he growled, and next to him Ryo nodded in agreement, his honeyed hair flopping down into his eyes until he pushed it away with an impatient hand. Fucked up this situation was, indeed. Very fucked up.

The bust had started simply enough. Two undercover cops were escorted into the warehouse as prospective buyers, while the rest of the squad waited in the nearby alleys. That part had seemed to go smoothly, at first. The indication any of them had received that something had gone wrong was when they heard gunshots suddenly ring out from within the warehouse.

The backup immediately deployed; Ryo and Dee broke down a side door to get into the warehouse proper. And it just went downhill from there...

For one thing, the number of large crates inside made it obvious that Riggs was more than just a drug dealer. A fact driven home when over a dozen of his minions broke into the crates and pulled out more weapons than you _ever_ wanted to see outside of an armory, before opening fire.

Dee ducked back down again as the gunfire resumed. "Don't these guys ever quit?" he grouched.

This time Ryo didn't even bother acknowledging him, though Dee didn't really mind. He was really only talking to keep his mind off the bullets that were coming _way_ too close to his precious body.

Knowing they wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, Dee took the opportunity to replace the two shots he'd fired. Just as he placed the second round in the chamber, a door neither of the cops had noticed banged open behind them. Startled, Dee turned in that direction, and time seemed to stop as he saw the perp standing there, a semiautomatic pistol in his hands, aimed right at the still-turning Ryo.

Something inside him screamed as, before he could even shout a warning, the thug shot the man he loved twice in the chest. Warm blood splattered his arm as bloody flowers blossomed on the older cop's chest in slow motion. Then, as Ryo let out a choked cry of surprise and pain, time sped back up to its normal pace.

A strangely detached fury filling him, Dee slammed the revolving chamber back into place as the thug started to turn towards him. He brought the gun up and cocked it in one smooth motion, training it high on the man's chest and triggering a single round.

Dee didn't notice the muzzle flash as the bastard's gun went off just before his did, and his bullet took the other man in the throat. Through the haze of anger and adrenaline, he almost didn't even feel the sudden impact against his chest, as though someone had taken a hammer and hit him with it, hard.

As the shooter fell to the floor, already well on his way down death's road, Dee crawled close to his friend and partner. Ryo lay very still, his head propped at an odd angle against the crate, the slight rise and fall of his blood-covered chest the only indication that he was even still alive. His usually creamy skin was quickly turning a frightening gray as Dee brushed his cheek with a trembling hand.

"Ryo?" he whispered desperately. "C'mon, buddy, wake up."

In response, the shuttered eyes fluttered open, revealing glazed, dark eyes. After a moment, they focused on his face. "...Dee..."

The green-eyed cop beamed at the thin whisper, unaware of the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "Hey." Ryo's eyes started to slide shut, and Dee panicked. "No, no! C'mon, man, stay with me. Open your eyes!"

To his relief they opened again, though it obviously cost the fallen cop a great amount of effort. "That's right, keep 'em open. Think about Bikky, and Carol, and how sad they'd be if you just gave up. Now just hold on, we'll get you to the hospital and they'll fix you right up..."

Ryo shook his head ever so slightly, watching him sadly. He knew. There wouldn't be a hospital. There wasn't enough time.

Not enough time in all the world.

Dee bent over him, covering the wounds with his hands, desperate to stop the bleeding. "Stop that. You'll be fine, you'll see. You... You've _got_ to be..." He sobbed as Ryo laboriously covered his bloody hands with his own, feeling a burning ache spread through his chest. "You've got to be..."

A tear fell onto their joined hands, and Ryo's lips moved as he tried to speak again. Dee shushed him, covering those lips with shaking fingers. "No, just... save your strength. Don't... don't leave me. Please, I-I love you so much... so much..."

Dee was sobbing now, as he watched Ryo give one last, sad smile. The burning in his chest had become a bonfire, a conflagration of epic proportions, while the light faded from his love's beautiful dark eyes. Helplessly, he gathered the still body into his arms, the chill and hardness of the concrete floor lost in the gray haze that had begun to shroud his senses.

He stared silently at Ryo's slack face, vaguely noticing the gunfire had stopped. Memories passed through him, half-remembered moments of their life together. Ryo laughing at something he'd said; a quiet evening spent with the brats, the only one of its kind he could remember, since putting Bikky and himself in the same room usually resulted in fire and brimstone...

And then he flashed back to the locker room, to when he'd held Ryo, so differently from the way he did now.

"I should've kissed you..." he murmured into Ryo's still enchantingly soft hair, though he was unaware of it.

His chest was numb, now, as he wept, unable to hold back the tears. Numb and cold... everything was numb and so, so cold...

That was how the rest of the force found them, later, lying in each others' arms, the blood from their wounds commingled until you couldn't tell where one left off and the other began.

* * *

A/N: First, before anyone complains about my starting another fic, understand this: **this story is my baby**. I finished this chapter over six months ago, closer to nine, but I didn't post it because I wanted it to be as perfect as an extremely imperfect being could make it. 

Of course, another reason I've been putting it off is that, while I could muddle through other stories without knowing what I was talking about, this one will require quite a bit of research. Grimaces And I'm lazy.


	2. Down Comes The Rain

**Warnings and Disclaimers: **_Simple Gifts_, despite being one of my favorite songs, does not number itself among my belongings.

* * *

He frightened the nurses. 

None of them ever spoke to the man; he never threatened them, never did anything but walk silently through the hospital corridors until he reached his destination. But nevertheless, his flesh-and-steel presence left them trembling with relief once he'd passed them by.

He knew this, but found no reason to alter the situation. The nurses and how they felt about him mattered nothing to him, so long as they did their jobs and left him alone.

Only one thing in the entire building held any importance for him, and even that had lost what value it had ever held.

He came at last to his destination, turning into the room without even any curious glances turned in his direction. This was his fifth visit in the past two weeks, and the personnel assigned to that floor had grown used to him.

Though admittedly, they would have paid him much more attention had they known he hadn't entered the building through any legal means.

But the bustling world of doctors and nurses outside had already passed from his mind. Instead, the man's attention was held completely by the contents of the room. Four limping steps took him to the end of the bed, his prosthetic leg _clunking_ with each step. He picked up the chart that hung there, flipping easily through it, reading the results with a practiced eye. MRIs, EEGs... Nothing that gave him any new information, or changed what he already knew.

Finally satisfied there was no hope, he replaced the chart and turned to leave. A pity, really- the boy had shown such promise. And now he would have to go through all the trouble of finding another disciple to shape into his vision. Though at least this time he knew not to impose _quite_ as hardcore a training regimen on the next candidate as he had on the last.

And with that, he left the room for the last time. Behind him, the abandoned, ten-year-old Odin Lowe, Jr., lay deep in the coma his doctors said he would most likely never awake from again.

_**-a few days later-**_

Ryan huddled in the back of his closet, his arms around his bent legs and his face buried in his knees. He wanted to cover his ears, to block out the shouting that penetrated easily through the apartment's thin walls, but he couldn't get his hands to unlock from his ankles.

He didn't know what had set them off this time, but it didn't really matter. It was always the same. Papa would come home drunk and, sometime in the course of the evening would begin to slap his mother around. Mama would send him to his room, then; Mama always did her best to protect him, even when Papa hurt her for it.

Ryan could feel the sting of his salty tears in the cut that was the result of one of the times Mama _couldn't_ protect him.

After he was safe in his room was when the shouting would begin. It would get louder and louder; sometimes he hummed to himself to try and drown it out. Then he'd hear that horrible other sound, the one that left big black bruises on Mama for days afterwards.

His parents were still shouting, but the beating hadn't started yet. Ryan was glad- sometimes, if the shouting went on long enough, it wouldn't happen at all, and Mama wouldn't get hurt. At least, not until the next time Papa hit the bars after work.

The young boy's head came up in the darkness, his ebony eyes wide, as to his far too experienced ears the timbre of the shouts changed. They'd only been mad before- buzzing and strident, like angry bees. Now... now they were _ugly_, the way that dog last year had been ugly, the one that had foamed at the mouth.

Silently, he began to shake, and as the shouts escalated, Ryan at last succeeded in freeing his hands so he could press them against his ears. Terror was an icy chill that clenched his guts painfully, and he chewed his lips bloody as he heard furniture crash and his mother shriek in rage. It had never been so bad before...

Finally, the child resorted to his last defense. As furniture crashed again out in the living room, Ryan began to first hum, and then sing, the song Mama sang to him whenever he had a nightmare; her dark Asian eyes, his eyes, solemn and kind, while Papa lay unconscious in a drunken stupor. "_'Tis a gift to be simple_," he sang in a voice that shook just as much as he did. "_'Tis a gift to be free, 'tis a gift to come 'round where we ought to be..._"

The walls between them, the hands over his ears, and the song were almost enough to drown out the first shots. Almost enough that he didn't hear Papa's bellow of pain and shock, almost enough that he didn't hear Mama's sobs. It was almost enough that young Ryan Owens didn't hear the last, lone gunshot, as his mama turned the gun on herself.

Almost.

_"...-and when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'twill be in the valley of love and delight..."_

-

Ethan McCullough wasn't a brave man, despite his Irish blood, but he wasn't a particularly greedy man either. When the cyborg approached him and told him he would pay if the caretaker arranged for every new child that came to him to take a series of tests, it was more the menacing gleam of light off that hideous metal than the offer of money that convinced him to take the deal.

Though admittedly, the money didn't hurt.

It wasn't long after the stranger approached him that the tests brought results. True to their agreement, McCullough called a special number, and told the gender-unspecific person on the other end of the line his name.

The man came back the very next day. McCullough met him at the front gate of the orphanage, a nervous smile fixed on his face. "Hello again, sir! How very, ah, nice to see you again..."

"Where is the boy?" The man's voice as he tersely interrupted sounded like nothing more than a bucket of rusty bolts.

The caretaker twitched. "I... of course." He waved his hands, beckoning the stranger forward into the compound. "Right this way, Mister, ah..."

"Doctor." The terse reply gave away no more information than that, and for a brief moment McCullough hesitated, torn between self-preservation and the sudden conviction that he was doing the Wrong Thing.

But then the doctor looked at him with that cybernetic eye, and he knew with a sinking feeling that he no longer had a choice in the matter. If he'd ever had one.

"What is the subject's name?" the doctor asked, and Ethan held in a shiver of disgust. Damn it, the ''subject" was a nine-year-old boy! Didn't that mean anything?

No. Not to this man. "Ryan Owens," he replied against his better judgement. God, what had he gotten this child into?

"Age?"

"Nine." The caretaker restricted himself to as few words as possible, afraid of what he might say if he let his mouth run loose.

"And his situation?"

"Not good." McCullough shuddered at the look he was given. There was nothing overtly threatening in that gaze; it was merely mildly annoyed, but nevertheless it sent chills down his spine. "His father abused both him and his mother. The mom finally got tired of it and capped him before shooting herself. The kid was hiding in his room, heard everything."

"I see." The cyborg's voice was unaffected, but for perhaps a certain thoughtfulness. "Show him to me."

Ethan McCullough nodded unhappily. "This way."

-

No one would have been able to see it on his face, but Dr. J was pleased. Very pleased, in fact.

The boy was perfect.

Owens stood before him, chin up and eyes down. He was small for his age group, but the kind of small that brought the word "wiry" to his mind, rather than "delicate". Though, many would still look at him and see only that sweet innocent face, which would be to his benefit. The boy was attractive, almost pretty, with those Asian eyes and honey-toned hair; that would make certain things easier for him. But he wasn't eye-catching; just the balance needed for an agent. And his abusive father had already begun his training, in a way.

The boy was already used to obeying those who hurt him.

"Did he bring anything with him?" the doctor asked the man next to him, hiding the contempt he felt for anyone so weak.

McCullough nodded, a nervous twitch beginning in one eye. "A bag of clothes."

"Go get it." J turned back to Owens, obviously already having dismissed the caretaker as unimportant. "Boy!" he barked harshly, bringing the child's frightened eyes up to his own. "You will be coming with me. Is that clear?"

Owens didn't answer, his eyes practically petrified even if his face was blank. The doctor's non-metallic hand flashed out, crashing against the boy's cheekbone and sending him to the floor. He made no sound, which almost made J smile. "When I ask you a question, you will answer 'yes sir' or 'no sir'. _Is that clear_?"

"Yes, sir," Owens answered quietly, trembling a little even as he tried to stay absolutely still so as not to trigger any more anger.

J nodded, satisfied. "Get up." The boy quickly obeyed, scrambling to his feet.

There was a noise behind them, and they turned to see McCullough standing in the doorway. "I, uh, I have his things..." He held out a small bag of belongings, staring wide-eyed and astonished at the slowly reddening mark on the child's face.

J sighed internally, realizing the man had felt a sudden burst of altruism and was planning on calling the police once they'd left. He grabbed the bag from the caretaker, tossing it at the boy, who caught it with a display of reflexes that again nearly caused a smile to spasm across the doctor's face. "Mr. McCullough, your efforts on the behalf of myself and my associates are much appreciated," he said formally, mockingly, as he reached into a pocket.

Afterwards, Owens stared, shell-shocked, as J unemotionally wiped the blood off of his face and returned his gun to his pocket. "Come," the doctor commanded, stepping over the blood-soaked body. "Don't dawdle."

He turned to look at the terrified boy over his shoulder, fixing him with that horrible, fanatical stare. "I have much to teach you."

* * *

A/N: twitches My God. Since when have I been this dedicated to drama? And to making life suck for poor Ryo? 

Um... notes. Right. I realize that this version of _Simple Gifts_ doesn't quite match the official version, but it's the way I first learned the song.

* * *

_Our most sincere gratitude to_ **Crysania**** Fay**, **curlytop** (Well, it is reincarnation, in a way… Though Dee isn't one of the other pilots), **Firehedgehog**, **JJ CJ**, **Laughing Cat**, **maleficus****-lupus** (Rose actually appears in the second volume, so keep reading! grins), **Mithros**, **ShitaeTenshi** (grins It is actually supposed to be rerum, according to my sources.), _and _**sydneydallas** _for reviewing_.

Beams happily Oh, and everyone who wanted to cry while reading the first chapter and admitted it gets a hug and a cookie. Same for this chapter (provided you admit it!) Hugs and hands out cookies

* * *

25 August 2005


	3. Life Is But a Dream

**Warnings and Disclaimers**: Some GW canon information a wonderful friend helped me to find. Ipso facto, this chapter is dedicated to her.

* * *

In April, when the shadow war began, David had just turned sixteen. Like many his age, for the most part he ignored it. Sometimes he'd see a blurb on the Net, saying this-or-that base had been attacked by the Gundam pilots, and there had been so many casualties, but what did it matter to him? The Gundams rarely struck in America; most militarily strategic targets were located in Europe and the Orient.

Surviving high school seemed far more important. Calculus, crushes on the wrong half of the population, and trying out for the Lincoln High soccer team occupied more of his attention than a supply train being ambushed out in East Germany.

May 19, A.C. 195, that all changed. The rebelling colonists attacked members of the Alliance's leading council, and in response a sect of the government took control of Earth, calling itself the Organization of the Zodiac. For a time he and everyone he knew was glued to the screens, watching anxiously as OZ settled into its newfound power. But except for the ten o'clock curfew and the troops commonly seen on the streets, nothing much seemed to change. Life settled down again into its usual paces. The school year ended, and his aunt and uncle were satisfied enough with his grades to let him be on the team again next year.

There were more attacks on OZ installations during the summer; David worried more about his irritating cousin Virgil's attacks of obnoxiousness. When they were younger he and Gil had gotten along much better, but lately the half-African boy couldn't seem to stand the sight of him. David had taken to simply leaving the room whenever he got that look in his eye, the one that said Gil was about to go off at the mouth.

Summer ended. David's junior year began. No longer nearer the bottom of the totem pole than the top, he gained a bit of confidence and came out to reassuringly accepting family and friends. He confronted Gil then, asking him if his preferences were why the boy suddenly hated him, but his cousin just laughed bitterly and walked out.

A month later Treize Khushrenada was deposed as the head of OZ, and a faction followed him. Again, the world watched with bated breath and pounding hearts for the civil war that was sure to follow. OZ began Operation Nova, saturating Earth with thousands of the newly commissioned remote-operated mobile suits. The curfew lowered to ten o'clock as OZ tried to eliminate both the Gundam pilots and the newborn Treize Faction. (1)

Things continued on. Despite the odds against them, the pilots attacked more frequently, sometimes aided and sometimes hindered by Treize's forces. A small percentage of the population began to root for them in the privacy of their hearts and homes, while a larger part began to wonder just which of the three armies were the 'good guys'.

By now David and his peers were concerned with what was going on in the world) but they still had their own little worlds to worry about. For a brief time- a very brief time, actually- he dated a cute sophomore named Zach. Gil simply stopped speaking to him those couple of weeks, but that didn't have much influence in why David broke up with him. Zach just lacked... something, something the teen wasn't ever sure about but needed nonetheless.

Soccer didn't go too badly for Lincoln High that year. They had a few losses, but their wins far outnumbered them. David played left forward, and scored often enough that the people in the hallways at school would stop and congratulate him after a particularly good game.

It was during their very last game, in the middle of December, that it happened; they hadn't done quite well enough to make it to finals. David was hanging around just past the center line waiting for defense to send the ball up the field. Something distracted him, he wasn't sure what afterwards; a shouting voice, perhaps, or a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye where nothing was supposed to be moving. Whichever it was, he turned his head to look.

That was when the soccer ball hit his temple, propelled by the full force of a testosterone-filled teenage boy. There was a hard, sudden pain and a flash of bright light, and David Larson hit the ground, unconscious.

It wasn't David Larson who woke up a week later in St. Jude's Hospital.

-**I**-**I**-**I**-

The first thing he was aware of was the muttering. It rose and fell like the tide, sometimes soft, sometimes harsh, but always just below the threshold of understanding. Next came the heaviness of his limbs and the dryness of his mouth, both unpleasant and both superceded a mere moment later by the ache in his head. He tried to groan, then, but nothing must have come out, because the voice didn't change.

Except... yes, it was getting clearer... He strained to make it out. "...gawddammit, you bastard, you had better wake up, or I swear I'll kick your ass from here to L2..."

He wanted to laugh and sigh at the same time. There was only one person he knew who was _that_ obnoxious. "Shut up, Bikky," he managed to croak out, forcing his reluctant jaw to open.

Instantly the muttering stopped, and the room was instead filled with a shocked silence. Puzzled, he cranked his eyelids open, flinching back at first when the light hit his over-sensitive pupils. After a time his vision cleared, revealing Bikky's slack-jawed face staring down at him.

But wait... Was it Bikky's face? It was too old, the eyes not quite so large, the cheekbones more pronounced. Part of him whispered _Gil_, but the rest screamed it was the half-black, half-white son of a drug dealer Ryo had rescued and adopted...

Bikky's lips stretched into a grin wide enough it threatened to split his head in two. "It's about time, Dee. Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to remember, you perverted asshole?"

Dee Laytner didn't answer, drowning under the deluge of memories of a life he'd lived and lost. Most of which centered around an oblivious, infuriating, beautiful man he hadn't even realized he still loved.

* * *

(1) Everything up to this point is canon, at least as far as I can tell based on several GW sites. There's still some accurate stuff after it, but my own inventions start showing up, so beware what you quote elsewhere.

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A/N: Short, short, short… Some of you might have noticed the lack of updates on, well, everything. I decided to try writing something that wasn't HP related to wear the block down, chose this one… brought the chapter to the place I wanted to close but it's _short_… I had a bit written afterwards, so I'm using that to springboard the next chapter. Just wanted to get something out so you knew I wasn't dead. Wish me luck with the block! Hugs her reviewers

11 January 2006


	4. Down Comes Baby, Cradle and All

**Warnings and Disclaimers:** All quotes from _Episode 49: The Final Victors_ were retrieved from gundamwing_dot_net, and in some cases were suitably altered. I'd never actually seen the episode, so I have now ruined it for myself...

* * *

Dee woke up at four p.m. on December 22. It was no more than half an hour after Bikky (Gil? He couldn't seem to make up his mind which name to call him...) placed a call that his aunt and uncle appeared to hover anxiously at his side. Apparently his cousin watched over him in the early afternoon while the adults were working, and then they switched off in early evening. His doctor came with them, a calm, middle-aged man with a receding hairline.

"Ah, Mr. Larson, it's good to see you awake," he said with a pleased smile. "We were getting just a touch worried there."

"Hey, Doc," Dee replied with a lopsided grin, sitting up with a wince as his head protested the sudden movement. A legion of nurses had passed through earlier, poking and prodding and seeming to do nothing constructive except make his headache worse. "Gil said I wasn't out of it _that_ long…"

_Just seventeen years…_

The doctor smiled again, a little patronizing this time, the corners of his eyes creasing into crow's feet. "A week is more than long enough to spend in a coma, Mr. Larson. Most people wake up within the first couple of days; anything longer and brain damage becomes a concern. Now, the nurses tell me he's not showing any signs of impairment. And you've seen nothing either?" He directed this question towards Dee's family, and his uncle and cousin nodded, Gil with an ironic smirk towards Dee while Aunt Rebekkah hugged him yet again, her pretty, dark face stiff against threatening tears.

"He's a little quiet, but I guess we ought to be expectin' that," Uncle Anton offered. "Got any idea when we'll be getting him out of here? Christmas ought to be spent at home, and all that."

"We'll want to keep him for observation for a couple of days, Mr. Harcourt, but barring complications, a discharge on the 24th might be possible," the doctor said, studying his patient carefully. "We'll see. Nothing's conclusive at the moment."

"Dunno, you might need to keep him longer than that. I think that soccer ball killed even more of his brain cells than usual," Gil deadpanned, glancing Dee's way with a barely-concealed smirk.

"Virgil!" Aunt Bekky hissed, aiming a swat at the back of his head that the teenager ducked with the ease of long practice. Dee would have done the same, but the brat was out of reach of the bed and he had a feeling his head would hate him if he tried to stand up at the moment.

Suppressing a smile at the two's antics, the doctor sent Dee's aunt and uncle a glance and then beckoned towards the hallway. They rose and stepped outside, Dee scowling after them; he was an adult, damn it, they could talk about what was wrong with him in front of him!

…Well, sort of an adult. And wasn't that a head-trip? He still remembered every moment of growing up as David Larson, but it was like those seventeen years were just a thin, mostly see-through layer on top of Detective Dee Laytner. Like those colored plastic sheets you wrapped leftovers in after the holidays were over. And if you thought about it, it kind of made sense. Dee had had twenty-nine years of experience, a lot of it gained through some tough times. David's life had been pretty damn sheltered in comparison. Was it any surprise that he didn't think of himself as David anymore? In fact, maybe he could get Aunt Bekky and Uncle Alton to start calling him Dee…

"…Your funeral was beautiful, you know."

Dee's head snapped around at Gil's words, and he stared at his cousin, taken aback by the deep sadness in his eyes. "…What?"

"We buried you together, you and Ryo. We thought you'd want it that way. There were a lot of flowers, and everyone cried, even that jerk Rose you were always ranting about," Gil said in a soft monotone, looking out the window. "I ended up in a foster home. It wasn't bad, but… it wasn't like it was with Ryo."

Uncertain of what to say, Dee kept silent and listened. "Carol really missed you guys, too. We… we got together for a bit, after high school, but it didn't work out. It was like it wasn't right, wasn't a family without the two of you. You know what I mean? And then… I think a car hit me and I died, but I don't remember that part really well. Gets all fuzzy. I didn't remember all this until I was twelve, you know. Hell of a thing, suddenly remembering shit that never happened and that no one else does, not even someone who was supposedly there, like you. I was pissed at you for that for a long time."

Dee had no idea what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, but it went unheard anyway as Gil turned to look at him again, his eyes smoldering with resentment. "Oh, and Dee? If you ever cheat on Ryo again I'll rip your spleen out and make you eat it."

The teenager spluttered for a few seconds. "What! I didn't… that wasn't… How the hell was I supposed to know?!" Dating Zach hadn't been cheating. He hadn't even remembered Ryo at the time!

…He flinched at the guilt that came with that thought, even though the more logical part of his brain told him it was in no way his fault. He'd _died_, for fuck's sake, and he kind of doubted you were supposed to go around remembering past lives. It had to be against the laws of the universe or something.

The guilt stayed anyway. Dee gave Gil a tight-lipped nod, and the younger boy sat back, satisfied.

"Have you seen him?" Dee almost didn't ask the question. He wanted Ryo back, more than anything, but… there was no telling what Ryo was like, now. Or if he was even alive. Just because he and Bikky had both been reincarnated, didn't mean anyone else they knew had as well.

So he really wasn't surprised when Gil shook his head. Felt like a few internal organs had been scooped out and something cold and empty left there instead, yes, but not surprised.

"Then we'll just have to keep looking."

-

As it turned out, Dee hadn't been released by the 24th. The lingering headache that assaulted him whenever he tried to go vertical made the doctor want to keep him just a bit longer, to make sure nothing was seriously wrong. The plan was that he could head home the next day, though, provided he took his nice pills whenever his skull started playing its own rock music and called the doctor for any particularly bad ones.

In a display of familial love and support that forced orphanage-raised Dee to hold back tears, his uncle decided they were all going to spend as much of the day with him as possible until the staff kicked them out. The three brought as much food with them as they could carry in lieu of the traditional family dinner, and all day long doctors and nurses popped inside to grab a nibble or two. Dee and Gil found it vastly amusing, though as growing boys they carefully guarded their own shares of the feast.

Aunt Bekky, of course, bustled around decorating the room, all the while firmly maintaining that she didn't celebrate non-Jewish holidays Christmas even as she hung her nephew's red and green stocking on the unused IV stand. It wasn't until Uncle Alton, exasperated, pulled her down into a seat that she herself took a few bites of the delicious food. And through it all, Dee basked in the warmth of knowing he had a family who cared about him.

He was happy and at peace, as content with life as he could be without his partner by his side; at least until later that evening, when to their surprise and bewilderment a deeply worried nurse hurried in and turned the telescreen to a worldwide news channel. Two armies of mobile suits were duking it out in space around an enormous, four-sectioned battleship, soundless explosions bursting like fireworks every few seconds.

Dee frowned. Why in the world did the nurse look so anxious if it was just another battle between mobile suits, not even inside the atmosphere? Even if the war was technically supposed to be over, it was nothing new, nothing bad enough to so frighten someone.

_"After Colony 195... the curtain attempts to close on the history of wars... But these two must fight or the peace will not come. Can you feel it... the sorrow of this fight? Can you see it... the peace that lies beyond this?"_ a woman's voice said, stern but sad. _"This is the question of peace that must be addressed by everyone!"_

Suddenly there was an explosion, and the battleship began to disintegrate, pieces of its infrastructure floating off into space._ "The _Peacemillion_ and the _Libra_ are heading away from the Earth,"_ a man's voice broke through, and there were gasps around the room as the rapt audience realized the ship had indeed been headed straight for the planet.

Something was wrong, though, and it took no time at all for Dee to pinpoint what it was. Not every part of the ship was tearing itself apart.

"_No! A portion of the _Libra_ is still falling!"_ the alarmed voice confirmed.

_"Lady Une, a declaration has come in from the colony representatives,"_ a new voice said as the last intact piece of the _Libra_ continued on course for Earth.

_"We the colony representatives have come to a consensus regarding the surrender of the earth... We of the colonies desire that the White Fang change their demands; we, for many reasons, strongly desire to co-exist with the nations of the earth. We declare a cessation of hostilities and hope that the nations of the earth can follow suit. Because our indecisive behavior we have greatly inconvenienced many people with this war... and for this we apologize deeply."_

Beside him, Gil snorted bitterly, and Dee spared a moment to wonder when his cousin moved over to sit on the bed with him. "Fat lot a 'cessation of hostilities' will do if that chuck wipes us all out," he muttered, looking green. "It'll be the end of the dinosaurs all over again."

The other teenager nodded, and shifted until their shoulders touched. He had a feeling they both needed the comfort.

Someone must have cut the sound from whoever had been broadcasting earlier, because now they were watching the piece of the ship fall in silence. Several mobile dolls rushed desperately toward it, and Dee's eyes widened as he recognized the terrorist Gundams cutting their way inside.

Then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, explosions from the inside began to further fragment the ship. Dee could hear Aunt Bekky praying in Hebrew, but most of his attention was riveted on the screen when suddenly the sound returned and left him grateful for the prayers. They needed all the help they could get.

_"Two hundred seconds until the _Libra_ begins reentry! It's at its limit!"_

There was another, larger explosion, and they held their breaths. When the flames cleared, half the ship was gone…

But the other half was still falling.

Before Dee could blink, his aunt and uncle had joined the two of them on the bed and were holding them tightly. The nurse had moved to stand beside them, and he reached out to take her hand as she wept silent tears.

_"The _Libra_ has entered the atmosphere… Ma'am, we're still reading Gundam 01 inside."_

For the second time in his two lives, time seemed to stop for Dee. By now it was hard to see the _Libra_ clearly as it burned through the outermost layer of the atmosphere, but it was all too obvious that very little of it was being burned off; Dee braced himself for an impact he knew he wouldn't feel from half a world away and a death that wouldn't come then, but later when the temperatures fell and the world choked on unbreathable air.

Then the last, final explosion blossomed, tearing apart the ship that would have ended the world, and time resumed its course.

_"…Readings show that… 01 has self-destructed. He… he did it…"_

They could hear cheering coming from other parts of the hospital, but the only sound in their room was Aunt Bekky's sobs of relief as she hugged her two boys tighter. There was something running down his cheeks, and Dee reached up to find that he'd been crying without ever realizing it.

"Bless him," the woman managed to choke out, and through the fog of shock the understanding of what had just happened- and what one man had just given up to save them all- hit Dee like a hammer blow.

"Bless his soul…"

* * *

A/N: I realize this isn't the way things went in canon GW. Heero never self-destructed to destroy the _Libra_, but the thing is, it's not Heero in that cockpit…

Hugs to all ye few, readers and reviewers alike.

* * *

29 May 2007


End file.
